It was beautiful Sunday afternoon of May and the weather was pleasant and breezy with soft sunlight bathing the city in hues of yellow and golden. Dressed in my airy palazzos and a grey cotton top, I set out to visit one of the oldest book sales that takes place at Sundar bai Hall in Churchgate every year. Excited about the decent bargain I were going to make and also the time I was going to spend with myself sitting at the celebrated shore of Marine drive; I took a Churchgate bound local.
On reaching there I found myself in the kind of paradise every bibliophile would dream to be in. Surrounded by hundred thousands of books, the musty smell of old paper hanging in the air and lots of excited people walking the aisles of the hall. I took a lazy stroll around, waiting and reading the synopsis of books that intrigued me. I ended up picking 5 books and could not wait to start reading them one at a time.
I kept the stack of books binded together in a plastic film on the concrete promenade besides me and sat cross legged facing the sea and the magnificent skyline which was one of the most beautiful places in Bombay. I allowed myself a deep breath as I sat there comfortably staring at the sheer beauty and grace that this city beholds.
Lost in what I would nearly describe as meditation, I was approached by this lady and one look at her confirmed that she was not from India. With her shiny black hair falling just over her shoulders and beautiful brown eyes, she looked heavenly. I could stop but notice her perfect set of teeth and her brows delicately arched downwards. When she smiled at me I was reminded of my Geometry teacher in school and felt the same warmth as I would feel when I was with her.
I smiled back at her and greeted. She asked me about the place I bought my books from and I was more than happy to tell her about the book sale nearby to which she nodded thoughtfully. I could sense that she wanted to talk to me but was hesitating for some reason. After a minute of silence she asked me if I knew a publisher here. I told her I did not. Then she asked me a couple of questions regarding the people here and whether it was necessary as part of our culture to take something as a gift from someone who was visiting them from abroad. I laughed at that a bit because I myself would happily welcome a box of chocolates if nothing else.
The sun was about to take a dip and we sat there talking no further and sharing our silence. And as she was going to leave she told me excitedly in her firangi accent and rather good Hindi that she was wishing to publish a book in India and was finding it difficult to filter out genuine sources and that her book was on similar lines as The Secret but was unique in its own way. I found that really intriguing and I made mental note to buy it now that I had a conversation with her.
At the last of our chat she told me her name was Bindu Dadlani and was a life coach. I was impressed and it answered a lot of questions about the air of calmness that she had and the peace on her face. I still remember the feel of her soft fair hands in mine when we shook hands. I was smiling for sometime after she was gone feeling glad that I had met her because I simply felt so good. The first thing I did when I reached home was searched her page on the internet and there it was, full of articles on spirituality and finding the real purpose of our lives.
I read her blogs regularly and they have really helped me out of situations where I thought I had no one to go to. They have helped me grow spiritually and have a considerable contribution in making me the person I am today.
This is the beauty of Bombay. It beholds people from all walks of life, gives them fair chances to realize their dreams and all possibilities, real and imagined. I have met some beautiful people like Bindu who have given m a set of direction and helped me find answers to some of the big questions life has thrown at me.